


Me, Myself, and Chell... +1

by Thursdays_Dove



Series: Two Wheatley's for the Price of One [2]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Do any of us?, F/M, Oh dear these again?, Wheatley is a nervous father, Will add more tags as I think of them later!, doesn't know what he is doing, okay here we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursdays_Dove/pseuds/Thursdays_Dove
Summary: For months, everything between he, himself, and Chell had been going along swimmingly... and then *he* came along.Sequel to Me, Myself, and Chell, which was inspired by a prompt dictating that Wheatley's corruption stayed with him and formed a distinct personality all its own. Ergo, two Wheatley's for the price of one, and this time they get to grapple with the reality of fatherhood. :D
Relationships: Chell/Wheatley (Portal)
Series: Two Wheatley's for the Price of One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888207
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Me, Myself, and Chell... +1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! We're back! I'm so excited to be writing this sequel! Though to be honest, I am not 100% certain of where it is going yet... I have a bunch of ideas floating around, semi-sorta-somewhat cohesive, but I do hope you'll stick around.
> 
> This is rated M for now to be safe - rating may change later as I see fit.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! nn;

For months, everything between he, himself, and Chell had been going along swimmingly... and then _he_ came along.

Wheatley knew absolutely, without a doubt, 100% that he loved his son. But he was also profoundly, insanely, tremendously, inexplicably jealous of him.

Well, maybe not so inexplicably - he knew exactly why he was jealous. The little tyke was taking up all of Chell's attention, leaving him with practically nothing. He got 99% of all Chell's time, energy, smiles, kisses. Not to mention the baby had full reign over Chell's breasts. Of course Wheatley understood that was for an entirely different nature, Chell's breasts were the baby's primary food source, it was just that Chell was so sore, her nipples so badly chapped, she didn't want anything touching them, not even air, let alone Wheatley. As far as that whole area was concerned - and the area of interest down lower - everything was entirely forbidden, roped-off and surrounded by turrets. Any wrong move would send a spray of bullets in his direction - maybe not real bullets, but an angry glare from Chell was just as deadly, he learned.

Chell and the baby even hogged the whole bed on a regular basis. Wheatley also understood why co-sleeping was necessary - aside from instinctual reasons, it helped both Chell and the baby sleep more comfortably - it was just that... where in the bloody hell was _he_ supposed to sleep? Throughout the course of the night, Chell would edge herself slowly further and further over until he was left with a tiny sliver of bedspace in which to try to catch his own Z's. And on more than one occassion, he had been accidentally pushed off the bed entirely.

How could such a little thing require so much space on the bed? He had tried moving around to the other side, to sleep with the baby in between them, but Chell had shaken her head at him in disapproval, concerned that he might accidentally roll over onto the baby or something while he was asleep. True, Chell was a much lighter sleeper than he was, but he thought he would know whether or not he was accidentally lying on top of a squirming infant. Chell was not convinced by the sentiment and refused to allow it, so he had no choice but to camp out on the sofa on these nights.

On one particular night, Wheatley had finally managed to wedge his way in, when the baby woke. Chell worked her magic and soothed him, helping him latch on and letting him nurse until he fell back asleep. Wheatley just laid there - very quiet, very still - trying to join his son in the fabled land of slumber. But no sooner had he started to shut down than Chell was nudging him.

"Mnnn.. what?"

She motioned that she needed something to drink, so Wheatley said, "Of course, luv," and rolled back out of bed, filled a glass from the bathroom sink, only to return moments later to find that she was back asleep again, and this time she had moved further over into his side of the bed, leaving him with no room whatsoever.

"Oh yeah, that's great, don't mind me," he groused, albeit in a hushed tone, "I'll just kip out on the old couch. Again. Not like I require a comfortable place to sleep or anything, right?"

Chell remained silent. Either she was ignoring him or she hadn't heard him at all. He couldn't handle either being the case, yet he was unwilling to rouse her and find out which - both would end with her glaring at him, he was sure.

"Right, well-.." He turned to head back out of the room, then turned back around, "Oh. Can't forget. Here's your water, _madame_."

He set the glass down on the bedside table, careful to make as little noise as possible, before moving around to the other side of the bed and staring (no, not glaring, just staring) down at the baby, his son. He, of course, was back asleep, breathing quietly alongside his mother. He looked so small and fragile - which he most certainly was, Wheatley could not forget - but at the same time, this little thing was also more powerful than anything Wheatley had ever faced. Scarier than Chell. Hell, even scarier than _her_. Actually, swap those around, Chell was way scarier than _she_ was, but the baby had them both beat, no question. No other being had ever exerted so much control over Chell - ever. Wheatley was sure of it.

But still, powerful little being or not, bed-hog or not, he was awful cute.

Wheatley reached out and gingerly touched the baby's head, for a brief moment marveling at how soft and warm it was, this little creature he and Chell had created together. He felt some of the warmth transfer into himself and then he muttered, "Well-... I guess I can forgive you," and marched back out into the living room.

He dragged his feet over to the sofa, where he prepared to scrunch himself up into the most comfortable position possible, but he caught a glimpse of the sink in the kitchen, overflowing with dirty dishes and bottles from the day. For several long moments he seriously considered letting it all sit there. _He_ hadn't used any of them, after all. And it wasn't like they were going to go anywhere. But there was this curious little niggling in the back of his mind, almost like a tickling sensation and every bit as annoying. He swatted at it, as if it was something he could physically push away, but it didn't do any good. It seemed to be urging him to get up and take care of the dishes - oh, and to take care of the dirty nappies while he was at it.

With a sigh, he moped his way over and got to work on it, fighting the urge to just throw the whole sink in the trash, grumbling to himself throughout the entire process, "You know what - why am _I_ the one always stuck doing dishes? I mean, there are two other people around here - three, now, and let's face it, the little guy isn't doing much other than creating all these messes, so isn't it time he pull his own weight? Not that he can pull his own weight, literally can't lift much other than his own head at this point - and I mean, he _does_ have a big head, but he is cute, adorable, really - but I think my point still stands. And you know what else - I'm not anybody's bloody _maid_ , and if I was, I'd be demanding higher compensation right about now. Oh yeah, hey, I always dreamed about being promoted from Extended Relaxation to dishwasher. I mean, pft, with my credentials? Hard to imagine I'd be passed up for such an opportunity. But ohhh yeah, sure, I'm just an _android_ , a _machine_ , so I must be like every other bloody household appliance. Sure, just go ahead and turn me on and _use_ me - well, I'd like that, actually, but nooooo. None of that for ol' Wheatley. None of that in exactly 53 days, but who's counting? Who - is - counting? Certainly not me, the _dishwasher_. I don't get _paid_ to _count_."

As he finished loading the last dish into the dishwasher, he felt that stupid itch creeping around inside of him, filling him with restlessness, topping off his frustration. 53 days... maybe not that long of a time in terms of how long since the dinosaurs had roamed the earth, but it was certainly a long time when it came to _that_. And both of them - himself and the other Wheatley - were in the same boat together, floating along helplessly through this ever-lasting dry spell with no end in sight. Sure, the doctor had told them not to engage in any penetrative sex for at least six weeks after Chell had given birth, but they had already exceeded that and Chell was still as sore as ever. It wasn't exactly abnormal for someone whose body had been put through the wringer, pushed a watermelon-sized human out of something the size of a lemon, and whose body was now entirely scheduled around this same watermelon-sized human. And not only that - how was he supposed to get any kind of enjoyment out of sex if _she_ wouldn't also enjoy it? It would be like testing all over again...

The dishwasher made a loud chattering noise as it shifted into its first heated wash cycle.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" he scowled, "You think that's funny? I bet you'll think it's _really_ funny when I load you up full of dirty nappies next time, yeah. So why don't you cycle on that for a bit. Arsehole."

Frustrated, he threw the wet hand towel down on the floor. Then he groaned to himself, stooped to pick it up, and carried it over to where their laundry machines were. He opened up the washer to begin stuffing the soiled nappies into it - "Oh my God, _what_ is she _feeding_ that kid?" - and stopped when he saw that it was already full of a wet load of laundry... that smelled slightly mildewy.

"Really, mate? Really?" he complained, pointing at the washing machine as if anyone else was around to bear witness to either his exasperated gesturing or what he was gesturing at. Never mind that he was the one who had started the laundry the day before and had forgotten - well, the other "him". "You know what, in you go. Don't really care at this point."

And with that, he dumped all the dirty nappies in on top of the load he had started on the day before, thought about dumping in extra laundry detergent, thought better of it (after having been yelled at, in a manner of, well, speaking, seeing as Chell could not actually speak, the last time for putting in too much detergent and making them all smell like a fresh pot of air fresheners, not to mention the way the clothes made them all itch to the point where he had to redo the whole load), thought about slamming the lid closed, thought better of that as well (after having accidentally woken up the baby last time), started the cycle, and huffed all the way back to his spot on the couch, flicking the lights off on his way over.

"May as well just slap a bloody Maytag sticker on myself, go squat in a corner, and be done with it."

And he might have done just that, but a cursory glance around the place revealed that they were fresh out of Maytag stickers. He'd have to add that to the list for the next grocery store run, which, he realized with a groan, was tomorrow.

"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant," he groused, fluffing up the pillow at the end of the couch before flopping down, turning over, and yanking the blanket up. " _I_ did all the chores today - _you_ can go to the store tomorrow, comprende?"

There was no answer, only the muffled sloshing and whooshing sounds of the dishwasher and washing machine as they ran through their cycles.

In some aspects, things out here on the surface were really not that much different than back at the lab - all the things he was supposed to be, but failed at, seemed to be hi-lighted in everything he did.

He wasn't sure, even now, that he was cut out to be a father. Who in their right mind would have ever reproduced with him anyway? Well, Chell did, but that did not mean it had been her intention - the baby had been a surprise, after all, not that it should have been given the fact that they were sleeping together on the regular, it was just.. neither of them had really anticipated the fact that he _could_ father any children. And Chell had confessed that, given her prolonged stint in Extended Relaxation, she really thought she was infertile as well. And now here they were - parents. And it scared Wheatley - both of them, though _he_ would never admit to that - half to death. Chell seemed to be hanging in there, like the brilliant, headstrong champ that she was, but Wheatley-... he had never felt so displaced in his entire life, and that was saying something, seeing as he had 1.) been alive for a _really_ long time, and 2.) been displaced many, _many_ times over the course of that "really long" period of time.

This whole fatherhood thing just felt like one more thing for him to fail at - only this thing mattered more to him than anything in the world. This was the most important test in a long history of thus-far failed tests. He wanted to try the best that he could, but between feeling displaced, left out, and inadequate, he really had no idea what the hell he was doing. About all he knew was that he didn't want the kid to think he was an idiot too. He wasn't even worried that the kid might grow up to be like him - there was nothing at all to worry about in that aspect as far as Wheatley was concerned, given who the kid's mother was. His son had nothing but a bright future ahead - one free of anything related to where his parents had come from, except for himself. That, at least, was something to be proud of, but it only went so far.

"Whatever," he mumbled, and then forced himself to sleep. Tomorrow, at least, would be his figurative day off, and he wouldn't have to think about any of this anymore. A small reprieve, but he would take what he could get and be happy enough with it.


End file.
